


Mishka: Incinerate

by ViridianChick



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:57:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViridianChick/pseuds/ViridianChick
Summary: An excerpt from the Graverunner's D&D campaign. Posting it here for logistical reasons so the rest of our D&D group can read it.Follows directly from "Hansel: Ignition." Mishka gives in.





	Mishka: Incinerate

This was a really fucking stupid idea. Mishka had thought it over a thousand times. He’d made a list: Reasons Not to Fuck Hansel Granger.

But he  _ wanted _ to.

Hansel’s mouth was warm and sweet. Softer than he thought it’d be. Softer than he’d imagined.

Hansel carried him into the captain’s quarters and set him down. It was morning. There had been crew on deck. People had seen them. Mishka didn’t fucking care, for once. He shut the door and locked it.

For a moment, they both just stood there, staring at each other. Mishka was breathing hard. Couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t handle his body’s reaction.

Mishka kissed him again, and Hansel slammed him against the door, fumbling with his clothes, pulling the buttons and laces undone. God, Hansel’s body felt so fucking good against his. Better than he’d been imagining. So much better. He stifled a groan. Kissing Hansel felt like being struck by lightning. It wasn’t fucking funny anymore; it hadn’t been fucking funny for a long time. Maybe it had never been a joke.

“You,” Hansel said, then seemed to struggle with what to say next.

“Yes,” Mishka said.

“You really do want—”

“I want it. How many times do I have to say so?”

Hansel moved his hips, grinding against him. And, fuck. Mishka groaned involuntarily, then managed to tamp down on it. Something darkened in Hansel’s eyes (a shade more black, a shade darker) and Hansel did it again, rougher this time, sliding a leg between Mishka’s thighs. Mishka couldn’t hold back the choking noise. There was a tight, white-hot fire in his lower stomach.

He was rapidly losing control of this situation.

Maybe that was good.

Maybe he wanted it that way.

Hansel’s voice was low. “Tell me what you want from me. I want to hear you fuckin’ say it. Out loud, for once.”

“Granger, I have been throwing myself at you since you stepped on board my ship. I think it’s pretty fucking obvious what I want from you.”

“No,” Hansel said. “It sure fuckin’ isn’t. And you haven’t. Not really.” Then he gripped Mishka by the nape of his hair. Carefully, like he was seeing if Mishka was okay with it. Gripping it at the base, with a large handful, so that it didn’t hurt; just a hold. Mishka’s mind flickered through contingency plans again (invisibility, dimension stepping, knife)—then flickered out, like smothering a flame. And for a second, he just held there, and breathed.

Hansel’s voice was still low. “If you want something specifically,  _ Captain _ , I’m going to make you ask again.”

“I want you to,” Mishka said, and stopped there, swallowing. Fuck me, hurt me, touch me, break me, take me.

_ I want you to fuck me so I can stop imagining it every night. _

“I want you to fuck me,” Mishka said. It almost hurt to get it out.

Hansel surveyed him. Looked him over. “Good,” he muttered.

Mishka half-expected it to happen there, against the door. Instead, Hansel stepped back, and pushed Mishka towards the bed. Mishka’s heart thudded in his chest. He went without thinking. For a split second, all the plans flickered in his head at once—invisibility, dimension stepping, knife—and then they extinguished again. All plans, gone.

For a moment, the only thing Mishka was thinking about was Hansel.

The next part—

The next part was a blur.

Fumbling. Heat. Kissing. Hansel’s hands on him, careful, like he was still testing this out, like he still wasn’t sure if it was allowed. God, fuck. He needed to do this now. Before he talked himself out of it or realized what a horrible fucking idea it was.

One time, Mishka thought.

One time. He’d ask Hansel to fuck him one time. And then he’d be done with it. Then he could stop—thinking about it. He’d go back to being cruel in the morning.

Hansel undressed him, batting his hands away when Mishka tried to return the favor. Hansel seemed fascinated with touching him; obsessed with it, now that he was allowed. He still did it carefully, though, like he wanted to make sure Mishka was fine with every individual spot. Mishka wanted Hansel to touch him more. Everywhere. More. 

Hansel undid every piece of clothing and tossed it aside, piece by methodical piece. Hansel caught his breath and leaned up. Mishka lay on the bed, naked. Splayed out. Hansel raked his eyes up Mishka’s body, and Mishka swallowed and made himself lie still.

Hansel unbuckled his belt.

Mishka groaned through his teeth. Fuck, yes. Finally. Unsurprisingly, Hansel’s cock was the same size as the rest of him. Hansel hesitated a moment, and Mishka realized: Ah. Lubrication. That was going to be a problem. Mishka scrambled for the bedside drawer, yanking it open. Taking out a small vial of lamp oil he had for himself.

Mishka tossed the vial to Hansel, and let Hansel slick his cock; then Hansel sank it in. Too much, too raw, too soon. He should’ve used fingers, first. Shouldn’t have gotten ahead of himself. Mishka couldn’t stop the whimper that tore out of him.

Hansel slowed to a stop.

Hansel’s entire body locked tense, and a faint tremor went through him. His eyes shut. But held still.

To not hurt Mishka.

_ Fuck _ .

Mishka wanted Hansel to hurt him.

He couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn’t enough. Mishka reached for his own cock to touch himself. Hansel looked surprised. He leaned up and watched Mishka touch himself, and Mishka’s face went hot. Mishka closed his eyes… and kept going. Let Hansel watch. Fuck it. God, he was going to come in an instant. It felt so  _ good _ to be full like this.

Then Hansel gently pulled Mishka’s hand aside. Held Mishka’s wrist down on the bed.

“Hey,” Hansel said. “Don’t do that.”

He let go of Mishka’s wrist—that was too far, somehow, even though he was currently hilt-deep inside. Then Hansel touched him instead. Stroking. Carefully, like he was still making sure this was okay. Insane. Even though he was currently fucking Mishka, Hansel still had to check and go slow enough for Mishka to stop him. As though Mishka were some delicate virgin to be deflowered.

Mishka hadn’t been a virgin since Aleksei had—

_ Don’t think about Aleksei. _

“I got you,” Hansel muttered against Mishka’s neck. He started to stroke—gently, always gently with him—and Mishka pressed his face into Hansel’s chest to muffle the broken, high-pitched sound that came out of him. “I got you,” Hansel muttered again. “I got you. Relax. C’mon.”

He couldn’t come from another man touching him. He couldn’t… relax enough to let someone else get him off. Even with Aleksei, Mishka had done this part himself. But, fuck, he was weak. So weak. It felt so good. No one had touched him in twenty years. He was—fuck, he was—

He was captain. He ought to be in charge here. Order Hansel to take care of him, to fuck him and get him off, and then pretend that’s all it had been.

But—

He didn’t want that.

“Hey,” Hansel said. “Are you—can you fuckin’ relax?”

“No, I can’t fucking relax.” He forced the words out. “Just—do it, just move—it’s fine—”

He kissed Mishka’s forehead. Then, slowly, began to rock. Mishka clasped a hand over his mouth to muffle a whimper. Hansel shook his head again. He pulled Mishka’s hand away from his mouth. “Don’t do that,” Hansel muttered.

No one else was there. The windows, fastened. The door shut and locked.

Why did he need to be quiet? The whole fucking crew already thought they were sleeping together.

Hansel seemed to take special satisfaction in breaking Mishka’s self-control. He went slow as though to deliberately frustrate Mishka. Like it was more fun, that way. Mishka had expected Hansel to hold him down and fuck him hard. Instead, Hansel took him gently in bed, while Mishka twisted and cried out for  _ harder _ and  _ faster _ and  _ fuck you, god damn it, Han, please. _

Each touch, each stroke on his cock, each sweet stroke inside, brushing against his prostate—it was too much. It built a fire in his gut, coal by coal, until Mishka crumpled. He bit down on Hansel’s shoulder to muffle a scream, and Hansel grunted in surprise (and maybe a little pain). Pleasure crested over in him. It almost felt like whiting out for a second. “Oh, fuck,” Mishka whispered, shaking.

Hansel held him, gently, while he came undone.

Then, once Mishka was done coming, Hansel started to fuck him again.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Mishka said.

Mishka wanted to make it good, but had no clue how. Maybe next time he really would suck Hansel off. He was good at that.

It was fascinating, watching Hansel break. The man was normally so stoic. Mishka cradled Hansel’s face in his hands and watched. Hansel’s expression broke, and Mishka wrapped his arms around Hansel’s back, pulling Hansel closer to him. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. Pressing Hansel’s face to his shoulder. He felt Hansel groan, low and broken. Felt him pulse inside.

Mishka just lay there and breathed in the afterglow. He curled up beside Hansel in the bed, and Hansel pulled him closer. He ought to get up, Mishka thought. He ought to push Hansel aside. Make some cruel remark about how he had a lot of lovers and Hansel had been a fool to think it was something more than that. It would be bullshit, of course; the last guy he fucked was Aleksei. But... maybe Hansel would believe it. 

Maybe.

There were a million reasons this was a bad idea. Mishka had written them down. Made it into a list: Reasons he shouldn’t sleep with Hansel Granger.

But in that exact moment—

Lying in Hansel’s arms, bathed in the afterglow—

Mishka couldn’t remember a single fucking one.


End file.
